seth fitzgerald. / district 4 / cbd3

You enter this world a mistake, one of epic proportions as far as your father was concerned. You tore her apart as you came into this world. My own son, a killer. When you were a child, it hurt to hear. To be called such cruelties by the man who was supposed to love you unconditionally. It's not as if it was your fault. It could have happened to anyone—to any family, to any mother, to any child. It was an accident. Your sister would always try to comfort you in those early years, before you knew how to control the tears and melodrama—before you learned that pain, just like anything else, can be controlled.

But she could never truly understand, could she? She came first, by two whole minutes. Her entrance into this world was expected. Praised, even. But a second baby was never part of the plan. But hey, neither was poisoning your father sixteen years later. He'd always called you a killer and after a decade of him screaming it at you, it was time to prove him right. But above all else, it was time for you and your sister to be your own people—to finally be free.

The only thing you can't shake now was the indescribable feeling of watching the life drain from his eyes, and the insatiable urge to do it again.